sea of sand.

The Traveler wiped the sweat from their brow, squinting up at the unblinking Iris. They looked out over the dunes, the wind slithering and shifting the sand with each hot exhale. They sighed heavily and trekked on, footprints carried away by the desert breeze as if The Traveler had never been there at all.

ii.

When the Iris drooped in the Cloudsea, turning it blood red, the Traveler decided to camp for the night. While pitching their tent, they hit something that definitely didn't feel like sand. This wasn't an unusual happening by any means, but instead of it being hard like a bone or a rock, it was soft.

The Traveler yanked their hand back, staring blankly at the surface ... was that a foot?

The Traveler dropped to their knees and started digging furiously, throwing aside palms of sand. They stared at the unearthed person beneath them.

Their features were androgynous and hard to place.

They wore finely crafted tunic with wide sleeves, the plainness of the outfit contrasted with the gold ornaments dripping from them. Set in the gold where stones the color for water - the very thing that the dry lips of The Stranger yearned for.

It was a miracle that the Stranger was even alive.

There was a clicking sound, the sound of bones knocking against each other. The figure liquefied out of the stretching shadows. It leaned over The Traveler's shoulder and hissed with a voice parched, Leave them.

The Traveler shook their head, their eyes squeezing shut. Their breathing became ragged, as if they couldn't grasp the air to inhale.

Take the gold.

You don't have enough water for the both of you.

Leave them.

The Traveler finally manages to suck in a deep breath, looking up into the first holes of light poking themselves into the velvet fabric of the Abyss. They inhaled and exhaled inhaled and exhaled as if a drowned man breaking the surface.

iii.

There had been two or three Abysses before the Stranger shot up, coughing violently.

The Traveler's eyes flew open and they watched with taunt shoulders and trained eyes. The Stranger met their eyes and slipped their hand downwards without breaking eye contact.

The Traveler threw the ornate dagger between the two of them. The Stranger's eyes flash, and then their body relaxes with a sigh.

"You saved me," The Stranger's voice is soft and dreamlike, almost musical. "Didn't you?"

The Traveler tilts their head slightly. "I guess so.”

Their voice is raspy from lack of talking, dry from a dwindling supply of water.

"Well, I have very little to offer with me, but here," He slides the headpiece from his head. "This should be worth something, hopefully."

"In the desert? Not much."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," The Stranger laughs sheepishly. "As you have likely assumed, I don't have any water. I took so much, and still ... We were told they're more people on the surface."

"Surface?"

The Stranger blinked. "I suppose you wouldn't call it the Surface, would you."

The Traveler eyed them. "I've been walking for a long time, and I haven't run into any towns, much less a kingdom,"

The Stranger gives her a wry, sad smile. "I don't think you would have, considering it's not on the Surface."

"What's this about a 'Surface',”

"Allow me to introduce myself," The Stranger tipped their head gracefully. "I am the seventh prince of Nausicaa, at your service.”

The Traveler's brow's furrowed.

Nausicaa was nothing but a bedtime story passed on by tradesmen, a tale of hubris and folly. And still, the Traveler hadn't seen any other places coming this way - certainly not a place that could make the kind of things this so-called Prince was wearing.

He didn't seem like he'd lost his mind to the dunes, either.

The Traveler shrugged - it could be worse.

"I'm sure that it may sound strange," He says. "But I too am at a loss. The legends about the Surface are ... outdated, it seems."

"’Legends’?"

"They said that there were great shrubs that cast shadows that grew sweet things, and when you ate them - their lifeblood would drip down your arm. They told stories of snaking rivers, sparkling and cool that stretched on for miles and miles,"

The Traveler hummed. "Not out here, no,"

His eyes move back to their face and he laughs sheepishly. "So it seems."

"Is that what you came up here for? Water?"

"I didn’t journey alone," He said, lips curving into that private, sad smile once more. "But yes. Our wells and reservoirs were drying up, and the Elders hadn't the slightest idea why."

The Traveler made a face.

"Well, I suppose it's nice not to be alone anymore, honorable lady,"

"I'm not a woman," The Traveler said.

"Oh," The Prince said softly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. The sand swallowed my womanliness." The Traveler said, stoking the fire with the arm not slung around their weapon. “Out here on the open sands - matters not.”

iv.

Although The Prince had shed his gold into one of The Traveler's many bags, his status would still be revealed by the way he walked and the way he looked out over the sands. The Traveler didn't say much, and The Prince didn't seem to mind, so they continued on in silence.

The Traveler's hand shot out in front of The Prince, eyes darting over the dunes.

"What - "

The Traveler raised their hand upwards, in front of The Prince's face, squinting at the dunes before them. They started to move when they saw the sand rise slightly. "Stand back."

The Traveler walked over to their mount, a giant bird with a long neck, and pulled their weapon off of its back. The Prince stepped forward, but dropped his hand immediately. The Traveler flipped a switch and a blue glow ran down geometric lines along the weapon like water through cracks. They hefted it over their shoulder, the other hand popping out a small magnifier. The magnifier scanned the dunes with a small, embellished circle that moved like an eye. The Traveler out moved their opposite hand to keep it steady and pulled out a larger leaver, pulling it back.

It was quiet, if not for the whistling of the wind reshaping the dunes like waves of the Great Mirror.

The circle moved across sand with purpose. It chirped. A giant snake with the ridges of a tough armed shell lining it's spine burst from the sand - a giant unblinking eye where its face should have been. It uncoiled itself higher.

The Traveler forced the lever forward, and a line of green light shot from their gun right into the beast's eye. It fell, sand clouds rising around it.

"What - "

"We've got to change course. Now. That was their scout, which means more are coming."

The Prince followed The Traveler's movement with his head. "More of - "

"Sandworms," The Traveler grabbed the bird's reins in their fist and tugged it in the opposite direction. "They could kill you. Easily."

The Prince turned back to look for a long time. "... How?"

"They suck out your life with their eye."

The Prince's contemplative face flashed with contempt.

"We need to go,” The Traveler repeats.

He looked the way behind them once more, then forward. "Alright."

v.

Kill him.

The ruin is tall, built of half weathered stone.

"It's half a corpse, but it should be useful against the wind," The Traveler says.

So they made camp together while the giant bird made experimental holes in the sand in search for the coolest spot.

Kill him.

The Traveler shakes their head, focusing on the mural above their tent. It was large and half faded, a circle with shades of purples outlining like the Cloudsea when the Iris opened. There was a woman in the middle, her arms outstretched. Old Words in rings of gold outlined the circle and curved in patterns around her. The Traveler had been staring at it for some time now, making crude lined sketches and scribbling words onto a block of paper.

Their mouth moved with the words.

"You can read it?" Asked the Prince, peeking over their shoulder.

Kill him.

The Traveler turned their head halfway at the sound before tearing their eyes from the mural. They leaned back from the Prince. "A little. Most of the Old Words have been lost to time. But our language has similar roots. If you know the similarities, you can find the match."

"Ah," The Prince nods.

The Traveler stares at him for a long time. "... You can't read it, can you."

"No," He admits bashfully, scratching the back of his neck. "The artistry is familiar, but I've ... never seen words before."

"Never?"

"Most of our history is oral. There are symbols for things like trading and celebrations, but ..." The Prince trailed off, slender fingers tracing reverently on the faded gold of the words. "Nothing like this."

The Traveler nods wordless, returning to their block.

Kill him.

They shake their head and look back at the Prince following the arched lines of gold.

vi.

"You always seem to have trouble sleeping," The Prince shakes the sand out of his long hair, throwing it back over his shoulder.

The Traveler looks away.

The corner of The Prince's lip quirked up. "You've never noticed how tense you are when you wake?”

The Traveler avoids his eyes.

"Oh!" They make the mistake of looking back at the Prince, whose small smile has widened into a full-on grin. "I can cast a spell on you if you'd like,"

The Traveler opens their mouth, confusion and suspicion seeping through their expression.

The Prince laughs, a sound that reminds them of the rushing water filling a basin. "I jest, I jest. I never was any good at magic, anyway. But please, I really do think it would help,"

No.

The Shadow rose from a distant patch of dark, the bones and teeth on its necklace clicking and its mouth still.

Don't.

The Traveler's lip quivered, and they forced themselves to look at the Prince. "Fine,"

The Prince grinned before quickly trying to dim it. "First, you have to lay down - " He patted his lap.

"Absolutely not," said the Traveler.

"That's fine … " The Prince looked slightly dejected. He lay down beside them, propping himself up with his arm.

The Traveler lay entirely still, only moving their eyes to follow him.

"Close your eyes," He met The Traveler's stare. "This part is the most important,"

The Traveler gave him one last look of annoyance before closing their eyes.

What are you doing?! Hissed The Shadow. He's going to rob you and leave you here to drown!

The Traveler felt the warm breath of The Prince drift over their twitching face, struggling not to open their eyes.

He is going to kill you! Just like bef -

The Traveler squeezed their eyes shut tighter.

Hi-to-tsume no koto-ba wa “yume” -

Ne-muri no naka kara,

His fingers lightly tapped their shoulder to an imaginary rhythm.

Mune-no-oku no kura-yami wo

Sot-to tsure-dasu no,

The Traveler felt themselves slipping and slipping further. Through a haziness that seemed like a dust storm, they saw the children - small boys spinning and jumping off the wide entrance steps, pretending they were birds.

They were laughing and spinning with their heads tossed all the way back.

And they were there, lying on a sun-bleached wall and soaking in the sunlight and with them.

A singular tear, reflecting the pinpoints of light, slid from the corner of their eye. The Traveler brought their wrist up over their eyes.

The Prince paused for a moment, holding in a breath. He exhaled slowly.

Fu-tat-su-me no ko-toba wa “kaze”

Yu-kute wo o-shiete,

Kami-sama no ude no na-ka e

Tsu-basa wo ao-ru no -

vii.

The clouds gathering on the horizon were billowing and black.

"The Tears have made it to us," said The Traveler. "We walk a little further and camp there."

"Into the storm?" The Prince says, tearing his eyes form the clouds to look at them.

"We'll never outrun it."

"Can the tent even take that much force?"

The Traveler's face was steadfast. "It'll hold."

So they walked.

In the distance, the Prince saw something he thought to be a mirage. He squinted. He stepped forward once, then again.

"What's wrong?"

The Prince took off ahead of them, ignoring the Traveler's calls, disappearing into the first clouds of the storm.

He catches himself on the lip of the well, looking down. He heaves. He crumbles to his knees.

The Traveler stops behind him, eyes scanning for injury. There isn't one.

"It's not enough," The Prince murmurs. The strong wind carries away his words.

The Traveler stands very still.

"And even if it were, who knows how long Nausicaa is from here? They've probably all - " He cuts himself off. The wind swallows his weeping, and he tilts his head back, the Iris' Tears washing over him.